DAY 26- Glenns Ferry, ID - 513 miles from home

And just like that, we've covered more than 500 miles.

The milestone was pretty anticlimactic in certain ways: another long, straight, empty stretch of road. In four hours of hiking, I probably saw no more than half a dozen cars. This was perhaps the loneliest stretch I've walked to date.

And yet, our route was none other than the Old Oregon Trail Road, and our destination today was Glenns Ferry: one of the most notoriously dangerous river crossings on the Oregon Trail. Until Gus Glenn constructed a ferry across the Snake River in 1869, the thousands of emigrants faced an impossible choice: play it safe by taking the southern route, facing the strong possibility of running out of pasture and water before hitting Fort Boise (if you didn't miss Boise altogether) - OR - ford the river, risking one's oxen, one's possessions and one's life. Many chose the latter, and crossed at this particular bend in the Snake, using the three islands here as "stepping stones" across rapid waters. "Three Island Crossing" also became known as a crossing of cultures: white folk on their way to 'free' land out west meeting the Shoshone and Bannock already at home on these shores and in these waters.

Tonight we're bunking at the Three Island Crossing State Park. It's beautiful and spacious, full of shade and green, with welcoming rangers and interpreters and an exceptionally well-maintained History and Education Center. And - tonight over supper Ed and Bob and I talked about Liberty Walks. About our mission, about what it might mean to "expand our reach" or "continuously improve" our organization. What are we trying to do? And are we doing it effectively??

As I sit here, alone by my tent, trying to type while also swatting away about 25 eager flies, it's a fair question. What are we doing here? Is this pilgrimage just one gal's quixotic path? Some might call this quixotic, said Michael Dunne - a radio host on Oregon Public Radio (Oregon On the Record) - when he interviewed me back in May. Quixotic, adj., foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals.

I thought about Don Quixote today, the original quixotic pursuer, while on that lonely stretch of the old Oregon Trail. You see, there were a LOT of windmills. Mile after mile of windmills. Windmills that started to seem so weird, so alive, so alien, so annoying, so creepy, so beautiful, and ultimately just so curious - inquisitive windmills - tender and slow and vast.

This pilgrimage is training the eye and opening the heart. Tenderizing us pilgrims toward mysteries large and small.

For instance, here's a mystery Bob and I have been thinking about for a week or so: What is it with the sunflowers? Why do they only seem to grow at the side of the road? Why do they favor a fence line? Is it because of rainfall, sluicing down from the berm of the road and gathering at the edge of a fence? Is it because of sun or heat reflected from the asphalt? Or is it opportunism? Are they just grabbing a stretch of naked land, making their home on the humble shoulders of our giant thoroughfares...?

Pilgrimages are designed, I think, to tenderize the heart. To teach us how to meet each other again - how to get so deeply curious that we discover the deep friendliness that resides within. That lives deep down with the question.

Pilgrimages, maybe, are designed to teach us about the kindness (love?) that is the other side of wonder.

Will any of that translate into something meaningful, something worthwhile? Something "impactful"? How can it not??? And yet... all I can really say is that today began with gummy bears, and a conversation with Karen at Albertson's. She pointed me toward new flavors, and a different brand ("so much better than Haribo!") - and told me about her 401K and her work ethic and how important it has been to her to have integrity and to work hard. She's been saving since she was 14, and could retire at 50 if she wanted to - but will still work 20 hours. And she's a self-confessed "neat freak" and helped me make sense of the bewildering array of Swiffer options. "Pick this one. That's the one I would use for my RV." - I did, and she was right.

And then there was Craig, and his three dogs - two rescue King Charles Spaniels named Mico and Augie, and a sweet old girl Lab named Alta. Craig and I talked about love and family and heartbreak in the way that dog people do. Mico and Augie, both skittish (as rescues can be), eventually were willing to sniff my hand. Alta, shameless Lab that she is, came right in for some skritches.

The gummy bear selection at Albertsons in Mountain Home, Idaho.

The lonely Oregon Trail.

The mysterious sunflower.

Windmilll, Who Are You?

Craig and Alta at Three Island Crossing State Park, Glenns Ferry, Idaho.